Keywords: Breeding, Jessica,
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Jess is the perfect wife. She's loving, supportive, funny, smart, interesting—and goddamn hot, too. We've known each other for seven years, been married for five, and I swear to God every day she just gets sexier.
So I'm nuts about her. Who wouldn't be? But that means other guys go nuts about her too. When she walks into a room the testosterone levels start to rise and their eyes all lock on her. It used to bother me, but not anymore, because I know Jess is all mine. She might enjoy being looked at by other men, might even flirt a little, but her heart belongs to me, just like mine belongs to her.
Which was why I was triple-thinking the whole idea as we sat down at the bar. We'd talked it out till we had cramps in our tongues and I'd approved...in theory. But now that it was happening, I was apprehensive. I mean, a little flirting is one thing, that can even be exciting, but she was here to do business.
It isn't what it sounds like. I'm not pimping my wife--that's in my fantasies only. But Jess and I had a problem, and we were here to solve it.
Having kids was going to be the icing on the cake for us. We'd planned on a few years of living large, then starting a family. Both of us had always wanted three kids, and a year ago the time was right for us to start having them. Problem was, she wasn't getting pregnant, and it wasn't for lack of trying. So finally we went to a fertility doctor, where we found out that my childhood case of scarlet fever had left me sterile. The dream of having kids was over.
So we had to decide what to do. We thought about adoption, but the waiting list was so long and the procedure so complicated we'd be old enought to be grandparents before we were ever parents. We could've paid some pregnant kid to give us her baby, but that was pretty shifty and if the girl stiffed us we'd be out some big money. So I brought up the topic of artificial insemination.
Jess wrinkled her nose. She wasn't for that at all. Number one, it just seemed so impersonal, and number two, you didn't really know whose sperm you were getting: the donors could be lying like rugs on the profiles they gave. I had to agree.
Then she said, "What about "real" insemination?"
I must've really looked stunned. She explained she didn't want to have an affair, but we could pick a guy and she'd let him fuck her and voilà, we'd be pregnant. She kept emphasizing that she didn't want to hurt me, till finally I blurted out the truth: I'd fantasized for years about watching her with another man. Then she was stunned, and then she told me she'd always fantasized about doing it with a black guy, and how did I feel about that?
I felt like a black baby would be hard to explain, that's how I felt. But there were ways we could make it work. We could say she'd chosen the guy's sperm and gotten artificially inseminated, or we could say she'd gone to be with the mother of the upcoming child during the pregnancy. Nobody had to know the mother would in fact be Jess.
So here we were in a posh dance club, staking out a place. Jess was dressed for success in a short black skirt and sleeveless white silk blouse. She wasn't obvious about it, but I knew every man in the room could tell that under the skirt were only her thigh-high stockings, and that the tits under the shirt were just ready to spring free from the skimpy bra that barely smoothed out her nipples. I had a hard-on and I had been looking at her the whole three hours I'd driven to get us here...I could imagine what it would be like for a stranger to see a hot bitch like her walk into the club dressed like that. Anybody who'd thought he needed Viagra before he came to the club had wasted a pill.
The people around us were dressed for a night on the town, most of them way more blantantly than Jess. But she had that aura about her that just screamed sexy, and she made all the women look like they were filmed in black-and-white. The guys were dressed for clubbing too, and some of them were pretty sexy. Jess was discreetly looking over them when an African-American man walked into the room and sucked the air right out of her lungs.
He was something else. Light-skinned and immaculately groomed, he was toned without being overly muscular. His facial features were handsome, but not bland. But it was his clothes that told the story. His white, short-sleeved shirt fit him like a caress, showing off his strong physique; a heavy gold watch--if it wasn't a Rolex it was a damn good fake--encircled his broad wrist; and he had on the most insane pair of pants I'd ever seen. They were black and vaguely shimmery, and the side seams were open, laced up with black laces, showing the smooth skin and contoured muscles underneath. The pants were tight across the front, too, letting his package speak for itself. It didn't seem like he was ridiculously hung--which was a stereotype anyway--but it was so put together that even a confirmed straight guy like me wouldn't have minded running my hand over it.
Jess's eyes flitted sideways to mine. I nodded, keeping my head straight forward, and watched out the corner of my eye as she pretended to need a napkin and leaned over the bar. Her nice round bottom raised up into the air, and--gotcha!--he saw it. I knew the rest would be cake.
The man sat a few seats down the bar, and it wasn't long before he was giving Jess the eye. She cast a little smile in his direction, and I muttered through my closed lips, "Buy him a drink."
"What? No way," she whispered like a ventriloquist. ""He" needs to buy "me" a drink."
"Uh-uh. He's interested. You need to up the ante."
She answered by signaling the bartender and telling him, "Please ask the gentleman there what he's having." The bartender had obviously had practice hooking up these kinds of liaisons. He worked his way down the bar by serving other customers, then had a short, unnoticed conversation with the black guy. After a while he made his way back up to Jess and said quietly, "The gentleman says he's having you."
Bingo! Jess let another smile slip, then, as she tilted her drink at the man, whispered to me out the corner of her mouth, "See you back at the hotel."
But I wasn't going anywhere that fast. I wanted to see this man put the moves on my beautiful wife. Jess couldn't do anything about it, because she had to pretend she didn't know me and the man was coming over to sit beside her.
"Would you like another drink?" he asked her, his voice smooth and cultured. This was no stereotypical ghetto dude; he had class.
"Yes, I would." Jess matched him in style and grace. "A Manhattan, please."
The man ordered her drink, then turned toward her. "Darris Williams," he said, extending his hand.
"Jessica Revell."
"Have you been here before?"
"No, I'm on my way from Kansas City." It was true, but it left out ninety-nine percent of the facts. "Have you been here before?"
"No. I've heard of this place, but I'm not usually into clubbing."
"Me either. But I think I'm glad I came."
"I think I am too." He smiled at her, showing straight, elegant teeth.
They drank and talked, sophisticated and urbane. Jess is like that. She's down to earth, but she's also smart and educated, and she can move in any circles she likes. Still, she just exuded sexuality, and I could tell Darris was after what she had. It wasn't too long until he put his hand on her knee. She smiled and let her leg slip to the side the tiniest bit, encouraging him. I got a hard-on.
They kept talking like nothing was going on, but Darris's hand was easing up her thigh, and I could see her nipples rising under the sheer blouse. I could also see that Darris was getting hard. Somehow that was sexy, too, and I found myself thinking I wouldn't mind checking out the cock under those tight pants. Hm, my fantasy life was getting better all the time.
Now Jess's legs parted further, and as her skirt rode up it was obvious she didn't have anything on underneath it. Her firm thighs peeked out above her stockings, and Darris's fingers trailed up, stroking her inner thighs and then running further up. I could tell he was touching her pussy by the way her hips rocked, ever so slightly, in her seat. She reached her hand down and trailed it lightly over Darris's bulge, and I realized I'd better get going.
I burst into the hotel room and shut myself in the closet. Through the louvers of the door I had a clear view of the bed. Just thinking about what was going to happen there, I wanted to masturbate, but I knew I had to save my climax for when I saw my wife fucking this gorgeous stranger.
They got there not long after. We had brought a bottle of nice wine, and they opened it and talked a little more as they had a glass. But it was obvious that neither of them wanted to wait. In a moment, Darris had Jess in his arms and was kissing her passionately. He was enjoying her just as much as I always did...and she was enjoying him too, which really turned me on. I got a glimpse of his coral-colored tongue sliding into her mouth, her tongue rubbing his. He ran his hands over her back, to her butt, then up to her breasts, and unbuttoned her blouse. "Mmm," she said, and he leaned down and began to suck her nipple through her bra.
"Oh, yeah," she said, bending her neck so she could watch him doing it. He flicked his tongue over her nipple, then slipped it under her bra as his hand pulled the fabric away. The sight of his dusky mouth on her golden-white tit drove me crazy. I started stroking myself through the fabric of my pants, just like Jess was doing to Darris.
He caught her by the waist, picked her up, and sat her on the bed. She leaned back, letting her skirt crinkle up her thighs, and spread her legs just enough to give him a glimpse of her pussy. I couldn't see it, but I could see Darris liked it. He pushed the skirt up more, then stroked a hand down between her legs, making her moan softly.
"You are a beautiful lady," he said. "I want to make you very happy right now."
He knelt down on the bed and they started undressing each other.
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Keywords: Breeding, Jessica,